


slowly, steadily, surely

by spale_vosver



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boss/Employee Relationship, Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, It's actually part of a scene and Elias is allowed to stop whenever he wants, M/M, Marijuana, Mildly Dubious Consent, Safewords, THE CONSENT IS THERE AND ELIAS IS ALLOWED TO STOP WHEN HE WANTS, They are boyfriends, again EVERYTHING IS PRE-NEGOTIATED, no beta we die like jonah's bodies, no one's consent is actually violated here, oh wait also
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29370780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spale_vosver/pseuds/spale_vosver
Summary: “I am giving you a choice, Elias,” and there are those eyes again, his father’s, grey and commanding and penetrating. “I can fire you, and you can leave. Maybe...throw yourself in the Thames the second you’re out the building. Or...you can beg. Your choice.”“I. I will.”“Good choice,” Mr. Wright says, and then points to the ground. “Kneel.”---Elias gets caught hotboxing the employee lounge, and is given a choice....except it's all a scene, and he can retract consent whenever he wants.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/James Wright
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	slowly, steadily, surely

**Author's Note:**

> VERY BIG WARNING: This fic DOES have dubcon elements, but it IS NOT dubcon. It is part of a pre-negotiated scene, and Elias is able to (and does!) retract consent whenever he wants. If that still bothers you, probably don't read this.
> 
> Also, the implication here is that the two are dating, are comfortable with each other, and Elias very much knows about the weird spooky supernatural stuff his boyfriend is up to. It's...best not to read too much into it. I just wanted to write Jameslias porn.

In hindsight, Elias really should _not_ have been hotboxing the staff lounge.

He considered it at the time, you know, a cursory _maybe I shouldn’t smoke in a public, poorly ventilated area,_ but then again, he’s never actually _seen_ anyone make use of the staff lounge, and really, would anyone _actually_ notice?

The answer turned out to be yes, really, someone _would_ actually notice.

So now Elias is staring his boss in the eyes (his father’s eyes), unmoving, unblinking; it’s like he’s got electricity pulsing through him, drawing all his muscles taut--he’s heard about that before from Allan, who was a big fan of electrical work and engineering and once told him about a man who was electrocuted and kept holding onto the wires because it seized up his muscles--and, Christ, where was he? His train of thought…

James Wright’s eyes bring him back to the present, grounding him. He shifts awkwardly, his first real movement since he turned to see Mr. Wright standing there. He gulps.

“Elias,” Mr. Wright says, tone cordial and controlled as ever. “I had no idea you were on break at this hour--did your schedule change?” He’s got an amused smirk tugging at his lips, and Elias _knows_ that the man is lying.

“I-” he starts, and then fails to hold back a cough. Fuck. That certainly isn’t going to help his case. “I. Yeah, uh. My schedule changed. From uh, from twelve to one I’m at lunch, and since no one is- y’know, y’know, uh, since the lounge is always empty, I figured I’d-”

“Hotbox it?”

The smirk isn’t just tugging at his lips anymore; it’s fully formed, pulling the edges of his mouth up and exposing just the faintest bit of too-white teeth. A cold shot runs through Elias’ body, and he’s so, _so_ thankful for two things:  
  


  1. Mr. Wright doesn’t look _mad_ \--at least, Elias doesn’t think so; facial expressions have always been hard for him
  2. He’s got a relatively high tolerance, and so the weed should only really help mitigate the symptoms of his ADHD



“Really, Elias,” Mr. Wright says, and now he’s crossing the room to meet him, and _Christ_ is this man tall, probably about a head taller than Elias, and he’s not- not _soft_ , but not overly muscled, and ok, maybe he wishes it would kick in sooner, because his brain is already non-functional as is, but the situation is making it even worse, and- “Smoking? Indoors? You know how many first editions we have here. What if you’d dropped your lighter and set a flame, hm?”  
  
“I- that’d be pretty bad, I think.”  
  
Mr. Wright laughs.

“A bit more than _pretty bad_ , Elias. Do you _know_ how many documents would be destroyed? Dozens, maybe even hundreds of priceless, irreplaceable artifacts up in smoke.” As if to punctuate the point, he takes the still half-lit joint from Elias’ hand (he’d been too panicked to even think about snuffing it) and takes a hit, holding the inhale in his lungs for a good long while before exhaling slowly; a bit of the smoke catches Elias in the face, and he swats it away like he’s trying to hit a fly.

“Really, it’d be a miracle if I didn’t just...fire you.”

“No,” Elias breathes, even before he registers what he’s said. “No, no, don’t- please, you can’t-”  
  
“I think I can,” his boss laughs, and without even flinching, snuffs the joint between two of his fingers. “You posed a potential threat to Institute property, and, well...hm.” He furrows his brow, and gives Elias a once over. “Judging by what I’ve seen today...I can’t exactly rule out you being high during our interview. That might explain some of your...odd behavior.”  
  
“No, no, I wasn’t high, I promise, Mr. Wright, I-” At this point, Elias is barely making sense, tears threatening to form at the corners of his eyes at the prospect of being fired. Where would he _go_ ? What would he _do_ ? He’s got no useful skills, no connections besides his name; his entire upbringing was preparation to work in some sort of stuffy academic organization, and now he’s _here_ , and- and- God, his father was right, wasn’t he?: Lazy, stupid Elias, getting himself fired for _smoking weed on the job_ . God, he’s _so stupid_ ; he can’t even formulate a proper defense, just beg and bite back tears and insist that he wasn’t high at his interview, and please, please don’t fire him, _please_.

After a long, pondering moment, Mr. Wright speaks again.  
  
“You do look _lovely_ when you beg, Elias.”  
  
“Sorry...sorry, what?”  
  
Is. Is Mr. Wright _flirting_ with him?  
  
Right after threatening to fire him?

He doesn’t understand.

“I. Could you repeat that, sir?” he asks, and- and _God_ , that’s a predatory grin, maybe Elias should just take the firing and throw himself in the Thames the second he’s out the building because _holy shit, what is going on_.

“I said,” Mr. Wright says, and he takes another step closer, closing the gap between them fully--if he were to bend down just a bit, their noses would touch. “That you are _lovely_ when you beg. And I am wondering, since you clearly love this position so much...if you would be willing to beg properly for it.”

“I. I don’t understand. I’m sorry, please don’t fire me, I just-”  
  
“Hush, Elias, and listen,” and as he says that, he _puts a finger to Elias’s lips-_

“I’m hushing!”

A noise of amusement.

“Right, well. I was wondering if you might be willing to beg me properly to stay.”  
  
“I.”

 _Is_ he? Is he willing? His head swims with the indignity of it all, the _idea_ of _begging his boss not to fire him_ , and- this is how pornos start, isn’t it? He’s going to get naked, or something, and then they’re going to fuck- well, not that he’s _watched_ pornos, that’s for- that’s for teenagers and lonely folk, and he’s neither, and-

“I am giving you a choice, Elias,” and there are those eyes again, his father’s, grey and commanding and penetrating. “I can fire you, and you can leave. Maybe...throw yourself in the Thames the second you’re out the building. Or...you can beg. Your choice.”

“I. I will.”

“Good choice,” Mr. Wright says, and then points to the ground. “Kneel.”  
  
Almost as if he’s being dragged, Elias is on the floor without a second thought; he can feel the painful press of the boards into his knees, like there’s several tons of weight on his shoulders, holding him there. From down here, Mr. Wright is even more imposing, and above all, those- those _damn eyes_ -

“Undo my trousers, Elias.”  
  
“I. I thought you wanted me to beg-”  
  
“Did I say that?” He considers for a moment. “Silly me. I used the wrong word. I said _beg_ because it was what you were doing at the time. Really, what I want you to do is _submit_ .”  
  
This time, Elias knows the man _isn’t_ lying.

He- should he be doing this? He- alright, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find Mr. Wright at least a _bit_ attractive, and yes, maybe he _has_ had the one or two or five off thoughts about his pretty fingers and his soft stubble and what he might look like shirtless but- but they’re at _work_ , and Mr. Wright is _upset_ with him, and-

Mr. Wright snaps his fingers.

“Elias. Focus on the task at hand. My trousers.”  
  
“Right, right, sorry.”  
  
Elias’ hands are shaky as he reaches to undo the older man’s belt buckle before pulling it off, and as he moves to the buttons on his trousers, he realizes that the man is hard, and- wait, he’s hard, has this- has this entire thing been a _turn on_ for him? He forces those thoughts away. He can have that existential crisis later, when he’s not literally being directed to undo his boss’ clothing.

“Pants too, Elias.”

“ _Yellow_.”

James’ expression softens, and he helps Elias to his feet, pulling up his own trousers and refastening them.

“Are you alright? Is everything alright?” He moves to pull Elias into an embrace, but stops short. “Ah- touch or no touch?”  
  
“I- touch is fine, thank you sir,” he says, and gratefully accepts an embrace. “Sorry for- for having to- you know-”  
  
“Hey,” James says, voice soft yet serious. “Don’t apologize for needing to slow down, ok? We can stop, if you want.”  
  
Elias shakes his head.

“No, no, I don’t want to- really, I. I did enjoy that. Just. Something about your tone-”  
  
“Reminded you of your father, yes, I figured. I was worried I was being a bit too...domineering.” His smile is soft, genuine, and he bends down just a bit to give Elias a small kiss. “You said you wanted to keep going, right? I’m assuming you’re hard, then.” Elias cracks a grin.

“I think you ought to _Know_ that, sir,” he says, and gives James a gentle shove on the shoulder. “But yeah, I. I am. And. You are too, yeah?”  
  
“I mean, your face was level with my crotch, really, if you didn’t know-”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, dumb and unobservant mortal, yeah. Look. I’m hard. The scene is over. Do you want to get off, or not?”  
  
James doesn’t need any other instruction; with practiced efficiency, he tugs both of their trousers and pants down, and surges forward, grinding against the smaller man. Elias moans, clinging to him, making him chuckle and mumble out a “needy thing” into his neck. His hands move with skill and dexterity, up and down in firm strokes, easing the both of them towards climax.

It’s easy, like this, simple; he Knows that their scenes usually don’t work out because Elias thinks too much, and really, he understands the feeling, Knows that Elias just wants to be good and feel good, and so he presses against him, rolling his hips, murmuring that he’s being a good boy, such a good boy, and when Elias whines out “ _Daddy_ ,” James _growls_ , sinking his teeth into the younger man’s neck.

Elias yelps at that, digs his nails into James’ arms and shoulders, rutting back against James’ hand and cock with a new desperation, mumbling “please” and “yes” and “Daddy” in no particular order, and within minutes he’s coming with a sigh and a shudder. He trails his own hand down to meet James’, and helps stroke him to his own release, marked with a groan of “ _Elias_ …”

The two of them hold each other for a bit, breathing heavily, paying absolutely no attention to anything unimportant like “personal space” or “not smearing cum on your boyfriend/boss’ face when you cup his face to kiss him”. James grins into the kiss, and, in a strangely playful sort of way, marks Elias with his own ejaculate, making him snort with laughter and insist that he’s “so gross, holy shit!”

“You did it first,” James reminds, and rummages through his coat pocket until he finds a handkerchief to clean them both up with. “Now. Was...that alright?” Elias nods, kissing him again.

“Yeah. It. It was.”  
  
They stand in silence for another long moment, before James checks his watch.

“Ah, I’ve got a meeting. Are you- are you going to be alright the rest of the day? You don’t need to take the day off, or anything?” Elias shakes his head.  
  
“Nah, I’m fine. I’ve been way higher during way more important things than this.”  
  
“Ah, of course,” James says, but stops on his way out the door. “Wait- wait, you’ve-”  
  
“Meeting!” 

James huffs.

“Fine, but we are _absolutely_ discussing that later.” He makes his way out of the lounge, and then pops back in. “Ah, see you at six, then?”  
  
“Yeah, at six. Love you!”  
  
And, in that moment, Elias Knows that James’ heart skips a beat. It’s a warm, rushing feeling, the sort of satisfaction you get after suddenly discovering the solution to a particularly difficult problem; fulfilling, and very, _very_ new.

They will absolutely be discussing _that_ later, too.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! If you enjoy Jameslias, maybe go follow me on twitter @spale_vosver, where I also post this kind of horny shit!


End file.
